Sycamore Pods
by Cordelia Sun
Summary: When Stark goes missing on a mysterious planet the search to find him goes...well...just about as well as it ever does.


The first corpse they saw was reading a book.

" _Holy_ Toledo," John murmured and crouched to inspect the figure, which sat before a broad doorway like your typical unhelpful receptionist, "must have been one hell of a book."

"John," Aeryn warned as she surveyed the surroundings, "don't poke the corpse."

John halted, fingertip barely a millimeter from the cadaver's brown, leather-like cheek and flashed her a hurt frown, "I wasn't gonna poke the corpse."

"Well don't." Aeryn stared at the extended finger and raised her brows.

"I wasn't gonna." John pulled away and approached Aeryn with an indignant frown; then he grinned and planted a warm kiss on her cheek, "you know me too well."

"Of course I do." Aeryn graced him with an faint smile, eyes bright with amusement, and stepped through the door.

John followed her into a wide, crowded anti-chamber. Grubby whitewashed walls of smoothed rock curved to create a circular room full of figures as dead and desiccated as the corpse on reception. They stood guard on the doors, lounged on dusty couches and sat at desks with huge brown ledgers open before them. The walls themselves were hung with dry bodies like hunting trophies straight out of Deliverance. Each figure was dressed in rich clothing and posed as if it had died in the middle of some mundane task. It was very, very strange.

"Well. This is weird," said John, master of understatement, "you think we'll find anyone living around here?"

Aeryn shrugged and made a security sweep of the chamber while John inspected a figure standing by a doorway. It was dressed in fine armour, reminiscent of a Roman Centurian, but the body inside was shriveled and shrunken so that it looked like a kid playing dress up. John raised a finger as he lost the fight against the urge to find out what the shrunken brown skin felt like.

"Please," a voice whined from the shadows, "do not touch the acolytes!"

"I wasn't gonna!" John lied under his breath before turning toward the voice. A figure emerged from an archway and hurried towards them with its arms outstretched.

Aeryn moved, stepping neatly in front of John, shoulders squared and her hand tight around the grip of her holstered pulse pistol. The figure shrunk back at her iron stare and nervously rubbed the tips of its long thin fingers together.

"I am Cerroc. How may I serve you?" It said, the register of its voice quivering as he spoke. The figure was small, Sebaceanoid and probably male; though John had learnt to avoid assumptions on that score a long time ago. His eyes sported the white irises of some of the more common Sebacean cousin species and its skin was so pale as to be almost translucent. He definitely wasn't dead, but to John's eyes he had the same sunken, sucked dry look as the Centurian.

"We're looking for a friend of ours," said Aeryn, "a Banik named Stark."

"A Banik? I don't recall any slaves coming recently," said Cerroc with a shake of the head. Then he gave them a nervy closed-mouth smile, "but... many come seeking loved ones."

"Yeah, well, I wouldn't exactly call Stark a loved one," said John, stepping to Aeryn's side, "but he came down here-babbling about beauty and contentment and a legion of peaceful souls-four days ago and we haven't heard from him since. Don't get me wrong; the peace and quiet has been great, but we're really gonna have to see that he's alright."

"Yes, yes, the Banik!" Understanding dawned on Cerroc's face and he nodded; head bobbing with nervous energy, "the stykera! He was drawn by the souls of the acolytes. Remarkable. I remember now. I do. I remember."

"Good," John drawled and rolled his eyes; he made a crazy circles at his temple toward Aeryn who pretended to ignore him.

"Where is he?" Aeryn demanded.

"He is with the acolytes." said Cerroc with a shrug, as if it was the most obvious thing in the universe, "he basks in the glory of the Hucoyotl."

"Hugh Coyote?" John said with a smirk, "any relation to Wiley?"

"You will take us to him." Aeryn demanded as she threw a warning a glare at John, who mime locked his lips and threw away the key. Cerroc opened his mouth, maybe to protest, but then appeared to change his mind and pressed his lips together. He rubbed the tips of his fingers again and motioned for them to follow him.

Cerroc led them along a long dully lit passage of black rough-hewn rock so narrow they were forced to walk single file. What it lacked in width it sure made up for in height and John craned his neck and squinted in the low light trying to make out the where the walls ended; as far as he could tell they didn't. Narrow catacombs honeycombed the rock at irregular intervals beginning just above John's head and disappearing into the distance. He jumped a couple of times as he walked and caught glimpses of bones in the shadows grouped together in piles; femur, tibia, skull and rib.

John hurried to catch up with Aeryn and leaned to whisper in her ear, "Is this freaking you out? 'Cause I gotta say...I'm pretty freaked out here."

"They're just corpses John; it isn't as if the first time you've seen one." She glanced back with a knowing look, which John returned with a rueful smile. Just then they came to a tall archway and, as Aeryn passed through ahead of him, her voice faltered, "on… the other hand..."

John stepped out beside her into a cavern so vast it made Yankee stadium look like little league. Darkness engulfed the space; relieved only by a white glow of indeterminate source, which didn't so much provide light as highlight the gloom. Jagged silhouettes clawed at the sloping ground like shadow theatre puppets lunging from their stage. At the cavern's centre a stone monolith towered over everything; dominating the expanse.

Hunched figures covered the slopes in uniform dusty rows which spiralled out from the monolith. Some knelt. Some lay prone. Others sprawled in mangled heaps as if they had simply fallen, like a marionette with the strings cut. Scuff marks on the ground suggested many had been dragged into position. Regardless of how they lay... all faced the monolith and all were dead.

John gaped in dumbstruck silence.

"John," Aeryn whispered... he turned at her tug on his sleeve and then followed her wide-eyed stare toward the roof.

Thousands, maybe hundreds of thousands, of dry brown figures hung from the vast cavern canopy where huge curved hooks skewered each one like a smoked fish. Close up, sunken and shrivelled faces pressed their unwavering grins on him, but as they swept into the distance the bodies blurred into indistinct forms and swayed like seeds on the bough of a great sycamore pregnant with pods.

"What… what is this?" Aeryn dragged her eyes away and stammered her question to Cerroc.

"They are the ascended," he replied.

"Ascended? They look desiccated to me," John said as he leaned toward Aeryn, "I have a bad feeling about this."

"Do you think we should leave? What about Stark?"

Cerroc interrupted before John could reply.

"Your friend is this way." He beckoned them to follow him toward the cavern centre. Aeryn shrugged and set off, though not before John noticed her knuckles whiten as she tightened her grip around her pulse pistol.

They trailed Cerroc at a breakneck pace and John babbled questions at the strange little man in an attempt to dampen the growing apprehension that wormed in pit of his belly.

"Sooo, when you say ascended?"

"They have moved on to a higher plane of existence."

"Ya, see, I don't really get that. Like, what do you do up there...just float around? With no body? _Oh God!_ " John cried out as his boot crunched on an outstretched arm, which had fallen across their path. He shuddered and carried on, "what about all the great things about having a body? Food, sleep...sex? Hmm? What about sex?"

"All such corporeal concerns are as nothing to an ascended being."

"I that case I'll pass," John said emphatically. Cerroc halted and and turned to John with a puzzled frown.

"I guess I'm just a corporeal kinda guy." John explained and pushed the little man to continue.

John grasped Aeryn's elbow before they set off again and spoke in a low voice, "freaked out yet?"

"I'll admit its somewhat unnerving." She wrinkled her nose and sniffed at the dry air, "and I'd expect it to smell more. That's rather strange."

"The smell?" John called after her as she set off again, "you think the strangest thing about this is the _smell_?"

At length they reached the centre of the cavern. Here the figures were brighter, more colourful, more recognisable as once having been people; variations of skin tone were clear and the original fabric of each set of robes distinguished the bodies from one another.

Close up the stone column radiated a soft luminescence that pushed the oppressive gloom far into the distance. Gossamer threads spun out from the surface like spider's webs spun into every corner of the cavern. Thin, dull, strands disappeared into the canopy among the sycamore pods. Dead threads for the dead. Close up each strand was thicker, brighter; strings of exquisite diamond thread connected to each submissive form. These strands flickered and rippled. Writhing. Alive.

As they approached the monolith John became aware of the sound of soft breathing and the air was... warmer, though he hadn't noticed the cold before.

"I think some of these people are still alive," said Aeryn staring at the figures.

John hummed in acknowledgement; he didn't know if that made him feel better or worse. He tried to tear his eyes from the threads, "quicker we get Stark and get out of here the better."

Finally sick of this weird ass bulldren John bounded towards their strange little guide and grabbed him by his robe, "OK pal, this has gone far enough. Where. The Hell. Is Stark."

"You friend is there... over there!" Cerroc pointed towards a figure only a few motres from the monolith. Stark knelt on the ground; his half-scarred face lifted to the monolith and palms raised in surrender to the stone. A fixed expression of absolute serenity settled on his slack features and an embedded strand of diamond light rippled in his chest.

"What have you done to him?"

"He basks in the glory of Hucoyotl."

"Yeah well, I think he's had enough sun," John let go of Cerroc and made a grab for Stark, "C'mon Astro you're coming home."

"John." Aeryn's voice, soft and dreamlike, called to him, "John, can you feel it?"

The sound stopped John dead in his tracks and he whirled to face Aeryn. She stood still; face upturned to the monolith and a slight smile played across her lips.

"Feel what?" he said, brow furrowing in confusion.

"It's so beautiful," she whispered and sunk slowly to her knees. John watched in horror as a ribbon of light sunk into her chest.

The worms of panic slithered from John's stomach and snaked tight around his throat. Paying no heed to the obstacles in his path John lurched toward Aeryn; pushing people out of way and clambering over their fallen bodies in his haste to get to his wife.

"Aeryn!" he yelled as he fell to his knees and grabbed her shoulders, "Aeryn, honey, get up!"

"It's so beautiful." Aeryn's eyes were fixed on the monolith. "Look John."

John grasped Aeryn's chin and tried to pull her face to his, but her eyes remained locked on the stone and she resisted his grip with the strength of a iron bar. John shuffled in front of her and bracketed the sides of her face with both hands in a desperate attempt to capture her attention. Her blank stare shot shards of ice into the pit of his stomach.

"Aeryn, Baby, please, look at me. We have to go now."

The light of her eyes flickered and suddenly she was there again, present in her head. John's heart swelled with hope when she bestowed on him her brightest smile.

"Look John," she said, "it's _so_ beautiful."

Aeryn raised a hand and pushed his head toward the monolith. As the soft glow filled John's eyes he felt his body pulling toward it like a magnet. He reached out, grabbed Aeryn's hand and twined his fingers with hers. He wanted to pull her away. He wanted to grab Aeryn and run far and run fast, but he was paralysed.

A thread of light whipped out from the stone and plunged into his chest. Dizzying euphoria spasmed through him. Love, sex, beauty, passion, happiness; all lashed into him with the force of a whip. Like unity on acid.

It was... beautiful.

In his soul he felt the voice

 _Welcome John Crichton._

 _We know you._

 _We know your heart._

 _Look._

 _Bask in our love_

 _Look at us._

THE END?

* * *

 _Notes:  
1) This was written for challenge 86 which called for a fic with God-like aliens. I was intending a second chapter, but on reflection decided to stick with the Bad Timing ending :D  
2) The inspiration from this came from the Capuchin catacombs of Palamero. Don't click on the link if you're squeamish, but do if you're not because it's very cool. If nothing else it goes to show that fiction is rarely weirder than reality /2011/11/06/the-bone-chilling-catacombs-of-the-capuchin-monks/  
3) Huehuecoyotl is an Aztec deity and the patron of uninhibited sexuality. I picked it just because I thought John could make a joke out of the name, but on reflection it does seem like a very Farscapian kinda god._


End file.
